9...a5, the Bayonet Attack, and the Gamble of Players Who Refuse to Memorize

In a small analysis room in Shanghai, I once sat beside a young player, his hand resting lightly on the queen, eyes fixed on the screen. He asked: "Why, after 9.b4, must I play 9...Nh5?" I could not answer immediately. Years of commentating on chess had taught me to define a position by the moves others had already chosen for us, and his question cut precisely into the place opening theory usually hides: behind every "orthodox" move sits an assumption about who is allowed to think independently. A new theory DVD on the King's Indian is trying to answer that question in its own way.

The King's Indian Defense is the classic hypermodern opening: 1.d4 Nf6 2.c4 g6, with Black conceding the center early and counterattacking later. The Mar del Plata variation, roughly ECO E97–E99, is its sharpest form — Black pushes ...Nc6 and ...e5, both sides attack on opposite wings, and the closed structure is packed with explosives. The Bayonet Attack 9.b4 is White's modern answer: grabbing queenside space before Black can close the formation.

For a long time, the move considered "correct" for Black was 9...Nh5. It opens the position, forces both sides into concrete lines stretching thirty moves, and turns the game into a memory contest. This is exactly why many club players abandon the King's Indian: they love the positions but refuse to learn them by heart.

The new DVD bets on 9...a5. What stands out is how the product positions itself. It does not promise a novelty, does not claim to overturn theory. It promises a change in the character of the game: away from the forcing lines after 9...Nh5 and toward a strategic, low-memorization struggle after 9...a5.

Technically, 9...a5 is no invention. It is a recognized sideline that challenges White's b4-pawn and steers the game toward a closed, maneuvering battle. The move strikes directly at the strategic heart of the Bayonet: if White cannot handle the b4-pawn, the space advantage evaporates. Black accepts a short-term loss of initiative in exchange for a more stable structure.

The real value of 9...a5 is not that it is stronger than 9...Nh5, but that it returns to the player the right to decide rather than forcing them to recite. The move 9...a5 compels White to answer a question about structure, not merely about lines. It is a conscious trade: sharpness surrendered for control.

But there is a problem with the source. All of the product's factual content comes from a promotional blurb in which the headline refers to a team-event round in Samarkand while the body discusses an opening DVD. The two do not match. For anyone who verifies information, this is a red flag: if the opening is already misaligned, every figure behind it needs independent checking. And indeed the product offers no metric at all — no ACPL, no win rate, no sample game, no author's name. I go looking for the moves that have no name on the theory board, but I also need to know who drew that board.

Let us be direct about the central sales claim. The promotion asserts that "computers often do not know how to handle these complex strategic positions." That sentence bears the mark of the pre-AlphaZero era. Modern neural-network engines handle long-term King's Indian positions far better than the blurb implies. The claim was once true; today it is dated language — even if it remains attractive to players who want to believe human judgment still has room.

The same applies to the promise of "very few concrete lines." The King's Indian Mar del Plata remains, by nature, sharp. No line removes the need to calculate. 9...a5 may reduce the volume of memorization, but it does not turn the game into a purely strategic contest. A well-prepared Bayonet player can still find play. So I read that promise as a sales pitch, not a theorem.

The counterintuitive angle is here: this product sells the buyer a self-image more than it sells a move. The slogan aimed at "players who like to think for themselves, not memorizers" hits a specific segment of the club market. That positioning is commercially clever, and precisely for that reason it must be read at an advertising discount. The value of a move does not sit on the price tag of a DVD; it sits in whether it helps a club player dare to step off the theory page.

The product must be placed in its proper market. This is the opening-theory publishing market — one of the steadiest revenue streams in chess, and also one of the most competitive. A DVD like this competes directly with free databases and online engines. Its survival rests not on raw lines but on a narrative that someone tells, structures, and directs. In other words, it sells guidance, not moves.

As someone who has sat through hundreds of games on commentary, I see history repeating at a familiar rhythm. A secondary line rises as an "antidote," players rush to learn it, and within one theory cycle White finds the "antidote to the antidote." A game does not end at the move; it ends with whoever still dares to think. I have seen a generation ready to calculate, and I believe they will never retreat — but they will not let anyone define "correct" on their behalf either.

So if you are weighing 9...a5, do what the product itself will not do for you: open a database, test a few games against an engine, and ask yourself whether you chose this branch because it is good, or because it gives you a feeling of freedom. Both reasons are legitimate. Just do not confuse the two. Because in chess, the most forgotten thing is not a move, but the right to judge for oneself. I go looking for the lines that have no name on the map, and I still believe the board is wider than any book that tries to teach us otherwise.